


Couch

by Cumquatmarmalade



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumquatmarmalade/pseuds/Cumquatmarmalade
Summary: Phryne invites Jack to supper to get him onto her couch and psychoanalyse him.But will they make it that far?





	Couch

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post Death and Hysteria.

Phryne Fisher’s body thrummed with excitement as she stepped from her bath and slipped on her favourite satin robe.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, her cheeks flushed, her hair damp and her lips wet. The colourful birds emblazoned on the back of her robe seemed more vibrant; their fighting poses more mating calls than calls to combat.

She shook herself. “It’s no use,” she said aloud. “He’s as immovable as granite.”

Lately, she had been harbouring what Dot would have called ‘very impure thoughts,’ in regard to a certain detective inspector of her long acquaintance.

She stood before the mirror and let her robe slip from her shoulders, exposing the creamy white skin and gentle slope of her collarbone.

A thrill of anticipation shuddered through her along with the now familiar frustration of plans thwarted and lust unconsummated.

She let the robe fall from her body and studied her naked form. Small, firm breasts, slim hips, and long shapely legs. Her hand reached down to brush lightly against the soft hairs at the apex of her thighs. Her body trembled.

 _God how she wanted him_. How she longed in this moment to touch herself; to bring herself undone with his name upon her lips. But she hesitated. It was too much when the living embodiment of her desire would be arriving within minutes. She feared the flush of her body and the scent of her arousal would be noted by him. He was, after all, a very good detective. And this evening was a planned seduction not a fait accompli.

She slowly, reluctantly stepped into her champagne silk lingerie. It glittered with tiny pearlescent beads along the seams and between the breasts.

She rolled on black stockings. Every touch of their thin silk felt like a caress against her skin. She closed her eyes and pressed her thighs together.

She moved to her dresser and sat down, scrutinising her reflection before applying a little kohl around her eyes and gave her skin a good dusting of powder. It shimmered slightly in the lamplight. She applied two coats of her favourite red lipstick and pouted prettily to the mirror. _All the better to kiss you with_ , she thought, and then pushed aside the rush of pure longing that threatened to overpower her.

She picked up her perfume, gently applying the spicy scent to her throat, her wrists and between her breasts. Someone had once told her that women applied perfume to places where they wished to be kissed. She dabbed a little between her thighs with a sly smile to her reflection. _Better to be safe than sorry._

She plucked up the midnight blue gown from her bed and lifted it over her head. Its satin floated over her body, settling like a second skin against her form. It clung in all the right places and was just low cut enough to give him a little mystery to contemplate. And she knew how he loved to unravel a mystery.

“Sounds inviting,” he’d said as she’d teased about putting him on a couch and psychoanalysing him.

And she’d made good on the invitation only a few days later. He had accepted without hesitation and she had been preparing ever since.

A soft knock on her bedroom door startled her from her thoughts.

“Yes?” she answered quietly.

“The Inspector is downstairs, Miss Fisher,” Mr Butler announced.

“Thank you Mr B. Tell him I’ll be down directly.”

“Very good Miss.”

She smoothed imaginary creases from her dress and took another look in the mirror as she stepped into her heels.

“That will have to do,” she told her reflection.

She took in a deep breath releasing it slowly then stepped from her room and headed for the stairs.

\----

Jack Robinson paced nervously in the familiar parlour of the familiar home of Phryne Fisher. It was the same room; same turquoise walls and yellow chairs, same chaise longue.

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

This had all seemed such a good idea. Call her bluff and see what transpired. But here he was, the thinly veiled invitation to her boudoir hanging in the very air he now breathed.

Not that he didn’t want her. He’d have to have ice water running through his veins to not want her. Lately he’d been unable to concentrate as she revealed glimpses of her thighs or leaned forward in a dress that little bit too low cut. Her perfume floated about him even in his sleep, and restless nights were filled with dreams of her and him and tantalisingly all manner of objects he’d once (as a younger man) not understood the use of.

He longed to trace the jut of her collarbones; to press his lips against her skin, to strip her bare and perform acts he’d only heretofore dreamed of.

He shook his head and began pacing the room thinking of the latest murder case that had crossed his desk to distract himself from the very obvious result of his arousal.

_What the hell was he going to tell her? What the hell was she going to ask?_

He sat down then stood again as the parlour doors slid open.

“Miss Fisher will be down directly,” Mr Butler informed. “Would you care for a drink as you’re waiting?”

He cast his mind back to the last time he’d waited for her here. Too many drinks and her father’s nerve tonic and he’d ended up in her bed- but without any of the outcomes he had long desired.

“Ah, thank you no, Mr Butler,” he replied.

The butler nodded almost knowingly and departed informing him that supper would soon be served.

Jack’s stomach rumbled in response. Now that was something that could distract him!

He didn’t hear the slide of the parlour doors when they next opened.

“Hello Jack.”

He startled then turned to her and stopped dead in his tracks. It was like the very air in the room had been sucked out in an instant.

She was utterly, achingly beautiful and he was completely beguiled by her.

But it was more than that, he knew. He was in love with her, had been in love with her for some time.

“Miss Fisher,” he said with a gentle tilt of his head and a wry smile.

She held out her hand to him and he took it, his palm warm and rough against hers. He held on a fraction too long, their eyes locked, trying to convey the words they could not, dare not say.

“Supper?” she asked suddenly.

“Thank you,” he answered, allowing her to lead him through to the dining room.

It was laden with a selection of hot and cold dishes, each more delicious looking than the next.

Phryne turned to find him close behind her. Very close. Heat radiated between their bodies and she wet her lips, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Help yourself,” she said, her voice a little more breathless than planned.

His gaze darkened, and his hand settled on her hip, his thumb tracing tiny but maddeningly erotic circles against the satin.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, voice gruff with emotion and perhaps longing? Phryne couldn’t quite be certain.

He removed his hand and she felt she might cry out from the loss of contact.

He picked up a plate and selected some potato salad, chicken and egg and bacon pie.

Phryne placed a little lobster mayonnaise and green salad on her plate and settled opposite Jack at one end of the table.

Mr Butler quietly entered and poured glasses of white wine, before retreating from the room and closing the doors.

“How’s the case coming along?” she eventually asked.

“I think we’ve got him, but he’s cagey. Has a fancy lawyer on his team.”

“I’ve no doubt the case will be watertight once you’re done with it,” she replied.

He nodded slightly and continued to eat.

Phryne smiled at him and the pair ate in comfortable silence for a while.

“Jack, about the Chinese brothel,”-

He laughed. “I was young. I was out of my depth and I felt very, very awkward. There were devices there that a young officer of- _nineteen_ I think I was, could only begin to guess the uses for. But I never forgot what I saw that day and I was- _curious_ I suppose. So I found out all I could.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “It turns out, I was a quick learner.”

Phryne felt a tug low in her belly.

Jack looked away and continued to eat but Phryne thought she saw the flicker of a teasing smile as he did so. _Infuriating, beautiful man,_ she thought.

“Mr Butler’s outdone himself,” Jack said as he helped himself to another slice of egg and bacon pie. Phryne was drawn from her musings.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” she answered, nibbling on a small forkful of the lobster.

“Are you not hungry?” he asked, putting down his knife and fork and studying her intently. A silence laden with possibilities hung in the air between them.

“Stop that,” she whispered at last.

“Stop what?” he asked.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“And how am I looking at you?” he continued.

“Like you want to devour me.”

His lips curled in a slow smile. “And if I did?”

Phryne’s frustrations bubbled over. “Why will you never say what you mean? For a man who deals almost entirely in fact, I”-

 “Be with me,” he said.

“What did you say?” Her heart was suddenly hammering erratically inside her chest.

 “Be with me, Phryne Fisher,” Jack repeated.

“But what about the story of the Chinese brothel?”

He snagged her hand with his. “I promise you, after tonight I will demonstrate every _filthy_ thing I learned that day, but right now I just want _you_. Is that alright?”

She smiled across at him. “It’s very alright.”

He stood and made his way purposefully to her side of the dining table.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” he breathed.

“I wish you would.”

Jack pulled her to her feet and tugged her into his arms, his mouth finding hers as warm and welcoming and desire-filled as his own.

His tongue lapped at her upper lip and her mouth opened willingly, her hands dragging at the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer.

His arms moved around her back, one hand sliding up into her hair, the other sliding down the soft satin until he reached the curve of her backside.

“Oh god, Jack,” she breathed into his mouth, even as her body bucked against him.

“Want you so badly,” he groaned, tearing his mouth from hers to nuzzle at the pulse point on her throat.

She shook with desire, her hands tugging at his tie, encouraging the tight knot at his throat to loosen. She wanted to touch, to taste every part of him all at once.

Jack inhaled the heady scent of her, his kisses travelling down her throat to the exposed skin of her shoulder. He pulled the material aside to allow better access and she moaned loudly as he nipped at her clavicle.

“Mr Butler will be in here, thinking you’re being murdered,” he warned.

“Then come to bed, Jack,” she replied.

He pulled back from her and fixed her with a serious expression.

“Are you certain, Phryne? Because there’s no turning back once we make this decision.”

Phryne took his face between her hands and studied his features. Handsome, stoic but a little afraid. How she adored him.

“I’m certain I desire you,” she began. “I’m not certain what kind of future I can offer you. But I know right now, I care so very deeply for you. More than care. Do you understand Jack? I can’t make pretty declarations. It’s not in my nature. But you do know what I’m saying, don’t you?”

He kissed her. Long, slow and tender. Phryne melted into his embrace and her body felt weightless, ethereal. She would reflect on that kiss for years afterwards. No man had ever kissed her like that before and no man ever would again.

His hand spanned her back and pulled her closer, the press of his arousal now evident against her thigh.

She broke from his embrace and took his hand, dragging him from the dining room to the stairs.

“I want you Jack,” she said. “I want _you_.”

She began to climb the stairs, her heart in her throat. _What if he’d changed his mind? What if he didn’t follow?_

The creak of the tread saw her visibly sigh with relief and she continued upstairs with greater confidence.

Once in her room, Jack pushed her door closed and pressed her back against it, kissing her over and over until she was breathless, giddy.

His hand slid from her hair, to stroke over her satin clad breast and her breath hitched. Her flesh responded, her nipples hardening against his palm. His mouth traced the edges of her gown and then fastened over the material, a wet spot weaving into the fabric as he nuzzled and nipped at her tender flesh.

She arched into his mouth, keening and moaning as his tongue teased her. Her hands grasped his hair, pulling his mouth back to her own.

He pulled the straps of her gown down to her waist, leaving her upper body exposed to his hungry gaze.

“Christ you are beautiful,” he managed as his fingers traced the pearl beads on her silk brassiere.

“But you have me at a distinct disadvantage,” she said.

Jack looked quizzically at her.

“I’m wearing far fewer clothes than you.”

He looked down at himself, the tenting in his trousers somewhat obvious.

“Ah,” he said.

She pushed the jacket from his arms and managed to at last, wrestle the tie from his neck. She undid the buttons of his crisp, white shirt and he assisted with the cuffs, shrugging it off and placing it carefully over her dresser chair.

He looked up and caught a glimpse of Phryne in the mirror as she allowed her dress to flutter to the floor. His breath caught.

Jack moved to her, his hands at her hips driving her backwards towards her bed. The pair tumbled atop the bed and Jack continued to stroke and lick and kiss every available inch of her skin. When he parted her thighs, the heady, spicy scent of her perfume assailed his senses. Jack pressed kisses against both her thighs and then pulled aside her knickers to lick a slow stripe against her sex.

The intimacy of it. The thrill of his mouth on her. The assured manner and utter dedication he displayed towards the task had Phryne writhing and panting and then screaming as release rocketed through her. Her hands grasped his hair, pulling him away before the pleasure turned unbearable.

He climbed over her and kissed her mouth. She tasted herself on his lips and slid her hands down his body to grasp the globes of his arse and grind him against her.

He swore like a sailor and pulled away from her, undoing his trousers and quickly and efficiently removing the rest of his clothing.

Phryne’s eyes darkened as she took him in. The strong muscular arms, the defined muscles of his chest, his erection. Everything about him was perfect.

He moved back over her, undoing her brassiere and pulling it from her chest before lowering his mouth to her breasts; suckling, nipping and flicking his tongue against the points of her nipples until she was writhing once more and on the brink of another climax.

He stopped then, and tugged the knickers from her hips, dragging them slowly downwards. They caught between her thighs, wet with her arousal. He smiled at her.

“I can’t wait to show you all I learned in that brothel,” he said darkly.

She chuckled.

“I’m more than ready.”

He lowered his body to hers, kissing her slowly and tenderly as he guided himself inside her.

They moved as one; Phryne’s legs wrapping around his hips and Jack finding a rhythm that had her gasping and moaning in pleasure.

As he felt his climax nearing, he moved his hand between them, pressing his fingers against the nub of her sex. She cried out and shattered around him at once, her body shuddering in pleasure and her sex clenching around his cock. He buried his head against her shoulder as he spent himself inside her, her hands stroking his back as she whispered words of encouragement.

“There now,” she managed. “There now.”

He slipped from her and fell back onto the bed. Their bodies shone with perspiration and their breathing remained shallow for some time as they returned to themselves.

“Are you alright?” he asked at length.

“Of course. Are you?”

He turned to face her in the big, warm bed.

“I knew this was what I wanted when I came here tonight. I’ve known for a long time. But I never dreamed it would be- so,”-

He was lost for words, overcome with emotion.

Phryne stroked the back of her hand down his cheek.

“Stay for a while,” she said.

“Just a while?” he asked, uncertain.

“Time is relative,” she replied. “A while might be night, a year, a lifetime. But I’m not done with you yet, Jack Robinson. I’m not sure I ever will be.”

He nodded. “Good,” he said. “Good.”

She grinned at him, her eyes taking on a mischievous hue. “Now about that Chinese brothel…”


End file.
